


But For the Joy of Living

by taetaetiger (sexyvanillatiger)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chases, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Predator/Prey, Public Sex, Rape Fantasy, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexyvanillatiger/pseuds/taetaetiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t the first time they’ve played this game. They’ve been at it long enough that they’ve begun keeping score, and Minseok is on a winning streak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But For the Joy of Living

It’s a small coffee shop, so small that the bathroom at the back, rather than having a neat row of stalls, resembles a small private similar to one that would be found in a rural gas station. It’s cleaner than a gas station, which Minseok appreciates, and it’s brighter than a gas station. Still, it bears the same cheap tiling, the same unreliable lock, the same strip on the outside that may either declare the room _vacant_ or _occupied_. Minseok has already relieved himself. Now, he’s hunched over the sink, water running, counting his breaths to calm his head. His stomach is in knots, and even when he bites his lips, he still can’t stop himself from smiling. His heart races in his chest. When it becomes obvious that he’s not going to be able to calm down, he washes his hands, turns the water off, and exits.

The table he’s sharing with Jongin is around the corner, so he can’t actually see Jongin until he’s out of the short hallway that bridges the space between the main dining room and the restrooms. It’s a shame; Jongin is a pretty sight today, with his hair swept back from his forehead and his lips parted naturally in sleep. He’s reclined in his seat, slumped down with his arms crossed over his chest. Minseok bites his lip and still cannot contain a fond grin. Jongin rouses as Minseok takes his seat; he rolls his head to the side to stare down his nose at Minseok, smiling a sleepy smile.

“Are you even going to be able to run today?” Minseok teases him, kicking his feet beneath the table. The rubber of their sneakers catches, keeping Minseok’s foot propped against Jongin’s. He doesn’t pull away.

Jongin breathes in deeply, stretching his arms out and smiling. “What makes you think I’ll be running?” Minseok cocks his head to the side, frowning, and Jongin laughs at him a little. “I’m going to catch you before you even know I’m there.”

Minseok rolls his eyes and jostles their feet together. “You’re all talk,” he accuses. “You’re not even awake right now.”

Jongin leans over the table. It could be the new angle, or maybe Jongin is doing it on purpose, but what Minseok had considered drowsiness is now a dark look in his eyes. His lips are turned up on one side, a wry sort of smirk that has Minseok shutting his mouth so fast, his teeth click. “I’ll be wide awake when I get to watch your pretty ass walking out that door,” Jongin tells him, his voice low so that nobody around them can hear the conversation. Minseok swallows thickly, meeting Jongin’s gaze but not conquering it. This is why he’s the prey in their little game.

“Whatever you say,” Minseok manages to croak out as Jongin leans back in his seat. “You only have two hours,” he reminds Jongin, who shrugs and looks very satisfied with himself. Minseok wonders if he’s blushing as badly as he thinks he is.

“I know. I’ll get you this time,” Jongin tells him, taking a final sip from his cup before standing to toss it. When he gets back to the table, he pushes at Minseok’s feet with the tips of his toes. “What’s your word?” he asks.

“Orange,” Minseok replies without hesitation.

Jongin smiles, satisfied. “Okay, good. I’m ready. On your mark,” he says.

Minseok smiles back and places his hand on top of the table. Jongin takes it, squeezing briefly, before letting go. Minseok stands and walks out of the coffee shop, out onto the street. When he looks over his shoulder, he can see Jongin watching him through the windows, his face streaked with the lettering of the shop’s name. Minseok bites his lip and goes left down the sidewalk, already planning a way to double back where Jongin won’t be able to see him.

They’ve sectioned off the part of the city they’re playing in today. A span of four avenues, bordered on either side by the highway and the waterfront, gives them more than enough space to get lost, but is still small enough to keep the threat of crossing paths looming. Their apartment is only six blocks south of the coffee shop, one which they often frequent, and this is the part of the city that is crammed full with restaurants, bubbling over with night clubs, and overall swelled with the city’s action. Minseok and Jongin know it well.

This isn’t the first time they’ve played this game. They’ve been at it long enough that they’ve begun keeping score—Minseok is winning, by one round. He’s small and fast, and he often doesn’t have difficulty keeping his head down and blending into the crowd. Jongin is clever but Minseok is sly, and when it comes down to it, whether it becomes a game of wits or athleticism, neither tends to overpower the other.

But Minseok is on a winning streak. Three rounds in a row, he’s managed to run Jongin ragged in their two hour time limit, turning him in circles so that he’s chasing his own tail. Jongin is a graceful loser in many respects, but when the prize is as sweet as Minseok, his competitive edge tends to make its dark emergence.

Jongin is convinced that he’s going to win today. Minseok is not so certain; he knows these streets every bit as well as Jongin does. There are alleys and hiding spaces just big enough for Minseok to tuck himself out of sight in a crisis. He’s even dressed in camouflage, the blacks and grey of his workout clothes matching the ominous shades of the sky and the muted tones of the city during the day. But Jongin’s confidence is a powerful thing; Minseok glances over his shoulder compulsively, eyes wide and flicking around continuously to keep track of all of his surroundings. And the game hasn’t even started yet.

Jongin has another two minutes before he’s allowed to follow Minseok. Minseok always gets a five minute head start to get far away, to find a hiding spot if he wants to rest, to plan out escape routes and strategies. Minseok starts by going one street over and doubling back up around the back of the coffee shop, on the opposite side of the block. When he gets to the corner, he peers around the side. Jongin has one minute left. What if he expects Minseok to come back this way? Minseok’s heart thuds in his chest, and he watches the corner for a moment.

The game has begun. Minseok is playing it risky today, staying so close to their start point at the very beginning. Maybe it’s audacity, carrying over from his past wins. Maybe it’s the desire to lose this time. Either way, he watches that corner for what feels like an eternity before he sees the dull pink of Jongin’s coif above the rest of the crowd. With a lurch, Minseok ducks around the wall and begins jogging back the other way. He glances behind him repeatedly, but as many times as he checks, Jongin is not there. He glances down the next avenue before turning left, towards the highway. Jongin is not here either.

Minseok slows to a fast walk. He might be safe, for a moment at least. He breathes, head whipping around in response to the smallest noises, the briefest flashes of color. He has to apologize as he stumbles into a few shoulders, his acute focus on Jongin keeping him distracted from the rest of the world. He’s halfway down a block when he turns and sees Jongin further down the street, several blocks away, walking right towards him. Minseok’s heart jumps and he wants to throw up. His panicked response comes without hesitation: he scrambles at first, but there are no alleys around him. There are several open doors, hole in the wall restaurants beckoning, but the indoors are off-limits until their two hours are up.

He breaks into a fast run to make it to the end of the block, sharply turning left and heading south. Jongin will be chasing him, not wanting to lose sight. Minseok searches rabidly for somewhere to hide before Jongin catches up to him. With one last glance over his shoulder, he ducks between two buildings, scrambling until he can slide behind the dumpster that’s lodged between them. Jongin hadn’t yet made it around the block when he looked back; if he’s lucky, his boyfriend won’t even notice this hiding spot. If he’s lucky, Jongin will run right by, uncertain as to whether Minseok went right or left or disappeared into thin air.

Minseok holds his breath desperately to listen for Jongin. For a moment, he is terrified. He hears nothing—did Jongin even chase him? Did he see Minseok hide? Is he ambling silently down this alley towards Minseok at this very moment?

Minseok jumps when he hears the slap of sneakers on pavement. His head is beginning to hurt from how long it’s been since he stopped breathing. The footfalls reach the alley, and then pass it, continuing on up the block. Minseok waits for another few seconds before exhaling slowly through his nose. He inhales in the same way, hesitating before peeking around the side of the dumpster. The small strip of the street that he can see from here is clear. Minseok edges out of the back of the alley, closer to the sidewalk, poking his head around to the left to find that Jongin is gone. He looks the other way; also clear.

Hands trembling from the adrenaline, Minseok steps out onto the street and takes off north at a trot. He peers around the corner both ways before turning right, towards the waterfront. When he comes to the end of the block, he checks both ways again before continuing straight. He looks back more often the further he goes, fear seeping into him that he’s gone too far too cleanly. He’s come so close to being caught twice that this lull he finds himself in means little; his heart and head are pounding as he waits for his demise.

This is nature, Minseok thinks as he ducks behind a crowd of businessmen, following them across a busy intersection to hide his movement. This is what it is like to live outside of the safety and security of normal life. This is what it is like to be a zebra on the Serengeti, or a seal in the arctic. Always looking back, always looking forward, with every step. Waking up first thing in the morning with only the intent to survive. Minseok’s body buzzes with the adrenaline of being hunted; he loves it.

The rest of the walk to the waterfront is uneventful. It starts to drizzle as he goes, small mists of raindrops coming down noncommittally. Minseok still checks every street, he still hides himself in crowds whenever he can, but they are thinning as people seek to escape the rain. Jongin is still nowhere to be seen. It’s possible that he’s in another corner of their play zone, but Minseok thinks that his boyfriend is too smart to linger in one place for so long where Minseok is nowhere to be found. In a strange duality, he is both cooled to complacency by the dullness and terrified by it. When he reaches the river, and the only way left to go is along it, he takes the right, going south.

Minseok checks his watch as he walks. It’s only been forty-five minutes since they started. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. It had felt so much longer, but time isn’t even half over yet. He opens his eyes again and keeps them wide, searching for hiding spots; the sidewalk on the riverside is empty. Back here, there is nothing for people to see, nothing for them to visit or do. It’s just the back ends of restaurants and stores, their blank faces marred from age and exposure. It’s a fair distance to the next avenue; Minseok realizes he’s well and trapped at just the worst moment.

Jongin is a dancer. He’s not always graceful, but there’s always a certain purpose to the way that he moves that makes him a laudable opponent for Minseok in their games. His stealth resembles the predators he emulates, sneaking around the city, creeping closer and closer until he pounces. Sometimes, he’ll come right up on Minseok’s nape before Minseok realizes that he’s been caught. This is not one of those times.

He can hear the scuff of Jongin’s sneakers from several yards away. He probably stumbled on the uneven pavement, or dragged his feet instead of picking them up properly. Either way, Minseok’s head whips around on his shoulders, his steps already picking up. Jongin is there, only a few arms’ lengths out of reach. Minseok breaks into a sprint, desperate to get out of reach, to get around the corner, to just get back to where there are people who can see them and help him and—

—and Jongin catches him by the back of his shirt, grabbing him and yanking him close. They spin, Jongin turning them so that they circle rather than fall. Minseok fights the grip, his stomach in knots. There are tears in his eyes, and he would shout if his throat weren’t dry and swollen shut. Jongin doesn’t let him go. He drags Minseok to the brick wall nearest to them, shoving him up against it and kissing Minseok so hard that his lip splits against his teeth. His knees are shaking, and if Jongin didn’t have a hand wrapped around his throat, he thinks he would be sinking to the ground at this moment.

When Jongin shoves a hand into the waistband of his shorts, Minseok can work up no more than a strained, inarticulate cry. Jongin swallows it, biting at his mouth. Minseok is already completely hard, his cock throbbing in time with his racing, bounding pulse. He pulls at Jongin’s shirt, but Jongin gathers his hands into one fist and breaks their kiss just so he can pin them above Minseok’s head. Minseok surrenders to him, tilting his head back and offering his throat. Jongin watches him for a moment, a considering look on his face, before taking Minseok by the throat once more and dragging him down the street.

The rain thickens as Jongin drags him between two buildings. Midway into the alley, there is a chain-link fence separating this half from the other half. Through it, the next street over is visible, where foot traffic has all but dissipated. The stout buildings rising on either side of them provide some shelter, but Minseok’s shoulders are still beginning to get soaked. Jongin leads Minseok back into the brick wall, face-first this time. Minseok pushes away from it, shoving at Jongin’s hands just for the sake of the fight, but Jongin grabs his wrists and shoves him flat into the brick. Minseok has to turn his head to keep from breaking his nose. His cheek burns where it’s come into contact with the rough wall.

Minseok’s head is spinning, so light that at first he almost doesn’t feel Jongin’s teeth around his throat. He grasps the muscle between his incisors, the jugular lying just beneath. Expertly, he avoids the carotid so that he can indulge in biting down harder for longer, tearing a cry out of Minseok’s throat. Minseok writhes in his grip, his struggles taking shape and form when Jongin reaches down to push at the hem of his shorts. Surely Jongin isn’t—they’re in _public_ —but even though Minseok is the stronger of the two of them, Jongin holds all of the leverage, and he merely pushes Minseok harder against the wall.

“Jongin, Jongin, wait, there are still people—” Minseok hisses, still squirming and fighting against Jongin’s grip. There aren’t people, every time Minseok glances over his shoulder, the streets seem more and more vacant. But his mind scrambles for words and what he means is that there _could_ be people, that this is a terrible alley and they’re barely hidden at all. Jongin leans forward, laying long and solid against him. His voice is dark and warm against the shell of Minseok’s ear.

“So stop me.”

Minseok breathes hard for a moment, neither of them moving. He blinks, and then realizes what Jongin is saying. Sometimes, if he’s too excited, he forgets the safe word, but it comes to him now. His breathing begins to even out, and he looks right towards the waterfront, and then left into the city. Nobody is there. Jongin’s hips begin to grind minutely against him, his breath coming out in small, pleased puffs. Minseok pushes his forehead into the wall and moans. “No,” he says, finally. “Please…”

Jongin doesn’t make him wait. He shoves Minseok’s shorts down just far enough for his cock to spring free, curving up towards the wall. He has to tilt his hips back to keep from grazing too close to the brick; it works him right back into the soft cotton of Jongin’s sweats. Jongin moans behind him, taking Minseok’s throat in one hand and his cock in the other. He squeezes hard, working a bead of pre-ejaculate from tip. Minseok can just see from the corner of his eye as Jongin reaches up to lick it off of his thumb. His cock twitches, and he grinds back against Jongin uselessly.

“You taste so good, hyung,” Jongin mumbles as he bites into his ear. He pushes his own sweatpants down a bit, long cock nestling into the groove of Minseok’s ass. Minseok whimpers and twists back against it. “You’d taste better with me on you.” Minseok gasps and tilts his hips, trying to catch the head against his hole, but Jongin makes it difficult for him. “Would you let me do that? Would you let me fuck you right here, right into the wall? Take you where people could see? _Claim_ you? Would you let me eat my come out of your ass until you’re crying for—”

“Yes, Jongin, _yes_ ,” Minseok shouts, entirely too loud, echoing down the alley and into the streets. Jongin takes Minseok’s cock in his fist and strokes him like he wants it, hard and fast. He grinds against him, pressing just hard enough against Minseok’s entrance but never pushing in. Minseok’s knees go weak and his body is still humming with the rush of the chase, of being caught when he comes. He pushes into the wall to hold himself up, letting the rest of his weight fall into Jongin’s arms. Minseok isn’t watching, but from the sound of it, Jongin uses his ejaculate to lubricate the rough slide of his hand on his own cock. Pushing Minseok’s shirt up out of the way and coming across his lower back moments later with a groan. Sleepily, Minseok turns his head to look at him over his shoulder. Jongin smiles.

“I won.”

Minseok huffs a small laugh and turns around completely, reclining against the building. The come on his back is dripping down, catching bits of dirt and chips off of the brick. He’ll need a shower as soon as they get home, even though all he wants to do is fall into bed and never get out. He’s reaching down to pull his shorts up when Jongin cups his face, swiping his thumb against the apple of his cheek. It’s a perfectly normal gesture, except the slide of Jongin’s thumb burns, and Minseok hisses as he jerks away.

“What—?” he begins, but Jongin cuts him off, pouting nervously.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he rushes to say, pulling back his hand so that Minseok can see small traces of blood on the pad of his thumb. Minseok reaches up, hesitant when his fingers brush the edge of the scrape—the part of his cheek that was roughly shoved into the brick earlier.

_Oh_ , Minseok thinks, a wry smile surfacing on his face. Jongin fidgets, unsureness in his eyes as Minseok looks up at him. “Yah, you were so reckless this time, weren’t you?” Jongin bows his head, properly cowed. Minseok smiles wider, delighted by this show of remorse. “First, being indecent in public. Then playing too rough—losing all the time really worked you up, didn’t it?”

Jongin’s head whips up at this, the tease in Minseok’s voice catching his attention. He frowns, obviously working through whether or not Minseok is actually upset about this, and Minseok just laughs at him. “I don’t lose all the time,” he snaps when it finally becomes clear to him that he’s not in trouble. “I didn’t lose today.”

Minseok smiles a broad, gummy smile up at his boyfriend and shakes his head. “No, you didn’t.” He opens his arms up, inviting Jongin into them. When he does, Minseok presses his face into Jongin’s chest and tells him, “But you did make a big mess of my back.” Jongin grumbles something like an apology. Minseok nuzzles the damp fabric of Jongin’s t-shirt. “Take me home and draw me a bath,” he says, with a fifty-fifty shot of actually getting his way. He thinks Jongin must really feel bad about scraping up his cheek, because without even a groan of reluctance, Jongin turns around and bends over so that Minseok can climb on.

Minseok does. The rain is coming down hard now, enough that the streets are empty and the sky is dark and when Jongin finally walks the twelve blocks it takes to get home, both of them are soaked to the bone. Even the parts of Jongin that were covered by Minseok are soaked through, both of them rattling in their clothes, teeth chattering as they both dive for a warm bath. Jongin starts it while Minseok scrapes his clothes off. He has to help Jongin with his hoodie, which gets tangled around his arms. They stumble back from each other when it comes off, the momentum almost knocking them over.

The water is too warm when they slip in, their frozen bodies feeling the mild temperature as burning. Minseok hisses when he lowers himself in, looking up to Jongin, who offers to run more cold water. He shakes his head, holding out his hand and letting Jongin slide in behind him. They settle into one another, hands clutching loosely at each other and resting on Minseok’s stomach. Minseok lets his head loll back against Jongin’s shoulder, feeling the bath warm him from the outside in. By the time his hands and feet are pink and wrinkled, the water is beginning to go tepid, and Minseok has to pull a half-sleeping Jongin out behind him.

It’s not quite evening, but Minseok thinks that Jongin will be completely asleep as soon as he hits the mattress. He drops his boyfriend down onto it, letting him work his own way up to the pillows, and then goes to drain the tub and dry himself off. When he comes back, Jongin is sprawled on his back, head fallen to the side, for all intents and purposes, appearing asleep. Minseok smiles fondly. He passes the bed to reach the dresser, seeking at least a pair of boxers. He startles when Jongin grabs him by the wrist while he’s still in reach.

“Come here,” Jongin mumbles, pulling weakly on his arm. Minseok, whose heart pounds in his chest, bites his lip and obeys. Jongin pulls him into his lap, grabbing the back of his head to drag him down into a kiss. He can feel Jongin hardening beneath him. _Youth_ , he thinks, chuckling against Jongin’s mouth. Jongin smiles in return, their kiss thinning until they pull back to look at each other.

“What?” Jongin asks, his hands slowly trailing up and down Minseok’s spine.

In answer, Minseok reaches down to grasp the head of Jongin’s cock, the only part that he can reach, the only part he’s not sitting on. Jongin’s breath hitches, his hips twitching minutely between Minseok’s thighs. “I forget how young you are sometimes,” Minseok laughs, wary of the mischievous glint in Jongin’s gaze. He very much expects being pulled close and rolled onto his back when it happens.

Jongin ruts down against him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the line of Minseok’s jaw. He pushes his way between Minseok’s legs, opening them wider and settling between them. It takes Minseok much longer to become aroused, and by the time he is, Jongin is embracing him feverishly. Minseok is swept asunder by his frenzy. He cries out when Jongin bites at him, squeezes him, whispers claims of ownership in his ear.

This is what Minseok loves about their game. The sense of animalism, the way Jongin brings out the basest part of him, the part that doesn’t come out anywhere other than their relationship. Minseok wonders if Jongin knows, if he understands how deeply it affects Minseok. Surely, he has an idea—it was Minseok, after all, who suggested the game all those months ago when they first began.

But does he know that even now, as he pushes his fingers into Minseok’s waiting body and stretches him open that Minseok is fantasizing about not wanting it, about being constrained and forced? Does he know that Minseok is breathless at the thought of Jongin coming deep inside him, holding him down and making him take it until he’s bred, stomach swollen and round?

How could he; Minseok has yet to tell him. He flushes, sometimes still worried that Jongin will read his mind and understand how twisted his desires become in the privacy of his own head, but Jongin never questions him. He loves their game as much as Minseok. He holds Minseok down so hard when he fucks him that he comes up with bruises by the end of it. He bites deep enough to draw blood sometimes, even though he never means to. Sometimes, Minseok wishes he did.

Even now, when Jongin comes and his head clears and his face clouds with worry over the sorry state he’s left Minseok in, Minseok just pulls him down, wraps his legs around Jongin’s waist to hold him inside, and jerks himself desperately until he comes over his fist. Jongin’s hands are tight around his arms, pinning him into the mattress, whether he means to or not. Minseok holds his gaze through his orgasm. Jongin stares down at him, his face hard and blank. The type of face a predator might wear, Minseok thinks, as it heartlessly devours its prey. Sometimes, he wonders if Jongin has guessed his darkest secrets.

“You know what I can’t believe?” Jongin asks, not bothering yet to roll off of Minseok. Minseok, for his part, wouldn’t let him if he tried.

“Hm?” he hums, turning his face to nose at the smooth skin of Jongin’s neck where he’s still damp with sweat and smelling strong and masculine.

“That we just took a bath for, like, an hour. And it didn’t take twenty minutes to get…” Jongin pushes himself up a bit, enough to expose their smeared ejaculate and sweat-slick bodies.

“Oh,” Minseok laughs, “yeah.” He twists his smile to the side thoughtfully, and then looks up sweetly. “Just a quick rinse this time?”

Jongin smiles. “Quick rinse.”

Individually, their legs are too weak and shaky to carry them from the bed to the bathroom, but together, they manage the trip in a slow, clumsy gait. They keep each other standing in the shower, and by the time they come out, the sun has set and the sky is dark. The light through the window comes from the city lights, and it’s slanted, drawing long shadows across their room. Minseok flips on a lamp and falls into bed. Before following him, Jongin flips it back off.

“Sleeping with the light on tonight?” he teases, crawling after Minseok and wrapping around him. “Trying to scare off the monsters under the bed?”

“The only monster in this bed is you,” Minseok returns, reaching back to poke Jongin in the side. Jongin catches his hand and rolls him over, half crawling over him so that he can reach his lips for a kiss.

“Wah, so mean,” he whines, his smile broad as he drags it lazily across Minseok’s cheek. “You know I’d never actually hurt you, right?” Minseok turns his head to nuzzle against him.

“I know,” he says. _But I wouldn’t mind if you did_ , he doesn’t say. _I’d let you._

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from the playboys0408 fest on LJ.


End file.
